


Perceptions of Need

by AriesFire



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergence, Denial of Feelings, Interracial Relationship, Multi, My First Work in This Fandom, Unethical Experimentation, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 09:26:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10533606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriesFire/pseuds/AriesFire
Summary: || "I don't know if it was for if The Mazes failed, or," Thomas continued, despite the questions all ricocheting about him--silent and verbal alike, "Or if they were gonna do it the whole time, but that's what it was. It was a plan b. Beta Initiative, that's what they kept calling it. It was the Beta Initiative." ||





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> My first work on this site, as well as for this fandom. I'll be entirely honest and admit now that I have only seen the movies, and from what I hear, they are quite different from the books. My apologies for that (and however it effects this work) in advance; I just got this idea in my head and had to get it down before it drove me out of my mind. Also, this may start off as just a cohesive selection of One-Shots of the main points I wanted to cover until I can add more to fill in the pockets. Time will tell how original this idea is: I hope you enjoy!

"Status of the subject. Is it partial?" the doctor's voice at last addressed the issue at hand: one that, until then, (save for the daunting echo of her slow clicking heels) had left a mute over the room--up to the only answer that came about those present.

"Medical history was lengthy--and muddled," a male voice followed, "All from separate physicians, and from differing facilities; none of their testing could yield a legitimate conclusion... not as of what we could find."

"And what of what _you_ could yield," she asked again. There was no leeway in her disposition. Though, none was inspected in such a case, "Our own analysis should be more than adequate for any answers. There is no further need for us to draw on the evaluation of outside resources. What are **your** conclusions?"

The pause that followed in this was longer than the first had been, but her firmness spoke clearly that there would be no advance in their business until an unambiguous finding could be drawn, and agreed upon by all present.

"No. Not partial," the opposing male answered again, precursing this with clear of his throat, "I have no doubt the status is absolute. For our own purposes, it would be wiser for us to assume it absolute, even if our findings were inconclusive."

Ava exhaled--stiff and cold, reacting as though this news were a bitter blow, but holding steadfast to her objective. 

"I see..." she answered, leaving the room to silence for several beats longer before speaking again, "Collect her," she said, back turned to the group assembled, "Keep the mother. We need her alive. I also need her unharmed. BI:CIR begins now... we cannot risk any possible dead ends."


	2. Origins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone leaves the box differently; she was no exception.

But They’re Out There.

Newt set still as stone after that. His eyes fixed on some unknown, nonexistent focus a ways ahead. His eyes were harder than Thomas had remembered seeing them the whole of his first day. That watchful, wise look that came from him at their initial meeting was gone. This stare was frigid, and distant… as though he were re _living_ , rather than re _membering_. The guy hadn’t made the statement a second ago, and yet it was stone now in his mind—locked into Thomas’ head as a blackened echo. _They’re out there_.

Thomas sat a while, not feeling the sudden onslaught of adjustment and thought pulling his expression into a more pensive frown. The distraction he’d been brought to was total (he being prone to and sinking into it easily regardless), and already, he was overcome. A single arm rested over his knees, both bent upward before his chest as his back rested beside Newt’s, against a fallen trunk. His free hand acted absently, fingering through the warm grass beneath him with a mind of its own as all he’d learned today replayed itself in his mind’s ear.

Three years.

Deserted here, left and imprisoned here for three years on their own. And in that time, these dozens of boys had all but constructed their own manner of civilization. This bunch had become so acclimated to this place that they even threw parties, played music, made… alcohol. He assumed it were some perverse substitution for alcohol, anyway. Though, he wasn’t certain how he knew what alcohol even was. He didn’t know how he remembered _anything_ : that ‘trees’ were the figures that towered above them, second only to the walls in might... that those silver masses scattered in the blackness above them were called ‘stars’. This all, he could remember, when he could not even recall what it was he looked like. The fact that he knew what alcohol was irritated him the longer he allowed his thoughts to run away. And God knew his tongue was working overtime to clear the taste from his mouth. But as his conscious sank further into inquisition, and as Thomas himself retreated deeper into his thoughts, his vision detached from willful control, flitting around by instinct to any small stimulant… mostly the flickering of firelight below their feet, or slightly farther.

Then there came a shuffle-- out from beyond, past the borders of their cheering and games, where he’d assumed everyone to be. It was barely noticeable to one who was otherwise occupied, inaudible with the sounds of celebration at their backs, but Thomas was so wound up in his thinking, that his more basic instincts were in a hyper state. Immediately, his neck whipped to where he’d seen the source, snapping him out of his encroaching consumption, and his eyes narrowed when the movement became more prominent. By reflex, his boots dug into the ground, propelling himself backward as his hands pressed down for him to jump to his feet. He could hear his own breath building into pants, his chest rattling again with his pounding heart, just as it had in the box. But the figure appeared from the shadows, and Newt’s arm stayed him, wordlessly assuring no need to be alarmed. His eyes darted between either of them, but a clearer form of striding legs caught his attention, and he dropped back down those few centimeters he’d raised himself from the ground.

So it was a person. And apparently they hadn’t seen either Thomas _or_ Newt where they sat until just then, as the sudden falter in their steps proved. Thomas studied them as closely as he could, seeing a matching squint from them that came to his own. Though, the one on him didn’t feel threatening as Gally’s. Nor as seasoned and authoritative as Alby’s. Not as observant as Newt’s. No, it felt as though it was more out of necessity even than curiosity… like they had vision that was less than reliable. Beyond this, he couldn’t see much to make out. He could see hair. Dark hair: blacker than the shadows that were cast about the place. It was stiff, unruly… and in thick, frayed looking waves barely past their shoulders. From what he could see of a face, it looked round, but carved from weightloss, probably a longstanding lack of proper eating. But what could that tell him? Quite a few of the boys looked this way, as his earlier tour had demonstrated. 

The stalemate between the three passed in those few breaths, and the stranger’s path widened around them, making for the larger group and being sure to stay out of the way… because he was the new arrival, Thomas assumed.

He began to ask as much, but his glance ticked onto Newt. Thomas' focus froze on him, seeing how he kept his eyes on the other. He was frowning. And it was a different frown than the natural one that seemed concreted onto Newt's expression, even when he was smiling. This frown looked more scrutinizing, perhaps even concerned. And it stayed this way, all as his head turned with the other’s receding. Soon they were out of the dark, and the flickering light of the bonfire brought them into focus far less obstructed. Seamlessly, Thomas jumped again, cursing _‘what the hell!?’_ to himself before peering more closely, then stammering to get out what were now endless questions. Newt, however, was still wordless, as was the other, though they kept their eye contact until Thomas and Newt were alone again.

“ _There’s girls here_?” He asked, eyeing Newt keenly, impatient as he turned his jar up to his lips. He made a hum before gulping the stuff down again, and hissed through his teeth while setting it between them.

“There’s _a_ girl here,” he corrected him. The subject seemed worn to Newt: maybe once a topic of excitement, but now just as settled as any dust kicked up by shift, “The only one so far. Hasn’t been another since, but—“ he shrugged, “Doesn’t stop a few of the guys from hoping every month.”

“W—how long’s she been here?” Thomas asked, skirting entirely over any humor, and seemingly over any attempt at casual conversation. Newt’s brow lifted with his noticing this himself, and his stare swiped to the Greenie yet again.

“Two years…” he answered that with calculation shaking his head, “A little less.”

“But she came up like me?”

Newt snickered at that, and in such a way that made Thomas uncertain of whether of not he was being insulted.

“ _No one’s_ come up li’e **you** ,” he answered, and shrugged a bit afterward, “But that’s the same with anyone ‘round here. We all leave the box differently, she’s no exception.”

“ _Okay_ ,” Thomas added again, making sure that Newt heard it as a question, instead of a satisfied close to their exchange. The blond headed boy looked to him again, now with a lifted eyebrow to join his everpresent frowning.

“You’ve **dedicated** your premiere tonight to asking questions, ey?” He asked back, “What exactly makes you think I know any more than that?”

“B… well because,” Thomas’ face was twisting now again, screaming ‘what do you mean?!’ through his pores, and scrunching when too many confusions began stacking themselves in his brain that could not breech his lips in a satisfying speed or manner, “You’re… I mean--Alby said you were the second one in charge here, right…?”

“Second-in-command,” His accent dignified, only with that correction. But Thomas continued anyway.

“And the way you were looking at her,” he stammered out further, “Like she’d… like she did something she wasn’t supposed to. You looked like you were upset that she did something... that she was out where she was.”

“There’s better ideas than being out in the woods in the middle of the night, aren’t there,” Newt answered tightly again.

“Then why didn’t you say anything,” Thomas continued to press, as though some puzzle were falling into place in his mind, more slowly than he would have liked, “Why didn’t you say that _to_ her?  And why was she looking at you like she was?”

 

“What is it you’re sniffing ‘round, Greenie?” Newt finally asked a question of his own, effectively silencing Thomas’ “and’s” for now.  Nagging inquisitiveness still battered in his head, but alongside it, Thomas could sympathize with Newt’s frustration.

“I’m-- I just …”

He didn’t know. It was the subconscious. It was his deep-rooted second nature, as would be the same in any inquisitive human. He was sniffing around for any comfort he could find in this myriad of fear, of distress and dread, of suspicion, of a loss that was harrowing to him, all that he had ascended into at the will of an iron cage. The truth of the matter was that he wasn’t one of these boys, one of The Gladers. Not really. He was new, and therefore he was different. He needed the consolation of not being the only thing here that was different. And with her, he wasn’t. But he couldn’t make out these complexities just yet.

“I just wanna know what happened.”

Newt sighed, letting one of his lanky legs slip to rest on the ground. But it was an acquiescing sound. Maybe he understood what Thomas didn’t, concluded it on his own. Maybe he only pitied him, and chose give in to disclosing information he would have come across eventually, just to keep him from begging. His particular reasoning, neither of them knew.

“She came right ‘round the time we all started really, truly suspecting more that,” he gulped again, “someone was watching us here.”

* * *

 

 

“A watched box never rises, man.”

Newt chuckled at Alby’s saying as such, their first-in-command’s humor being aimed at Jeff, despite his not exactly sharing the amusement.

“Y’ _that_ eager for a bonfire?” Newt added, making Clint and Alby both join him in cracking up again. Jeff tossed a glance back to their Med Hut, before returning to where his stare and been stuck before: awaiting the box’s arrival.

“Yeah, y’all say all that now,” he nodded his head, a huff leaving him as his fingers tightened somewhat over his packstrap, “Nobody’s gonna be laughing when Winston and all them’s fingers ‘n’ arms start rottin’ off ‘cause we don’t have supplies.”

“Hey, c’mon, slim it with all that, man,” Alby’s voice cranked a touch in authority, but overall maintained his good spirits. Nerves always rattled when it came to crunch time with the box and the provisions within.

“It’ll be here, mate,” Newt assured, “It’s due any day, we’re right off until then, trust us. Clint isn’t even as worried ‘s you are. Take a cue from ‘im, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jeff sighed again, “Yeah.”

It was roughly a day and a half later that the grind and shriek of the box sounded, drawing the gladers in a bustle to the center of the glade, awaiting the greenie inside, and Jeff awaiting all he would need replenished for the medjack. Eager, cackling exchanges and nudges all came when the thing came to a halt, and Alby took It upon himself to drop down for the initial shock and panic.

Not for a second had he expected it to come from him.

A deep frown came to his face as he gave a second look to the figure. The sight didn’t change.

“Newt. Gally,” he called firmly--loudly, making the other boys suspicious. The “Come down here” he instructed afterward saw a clamour begin to spread about them.

“Watch it,” he added more quietly when he felt the heavy drops of their weight join him in the box—first Gally’s more leadlike self, then Newt’s far lighter, more cautious landing. The commotion grew at their backs, and as the rest crowded closer to the opening, the light for the three inside was hindered, causing Alby to roar out this time.

“Hey, BACK UP!”

Hush rippled through the lot, and they all did as they were told, now looking to each other as their nerves mounted nearly in sync.

“…it looks like a bloody _girl_ ,” Newt finally spoke up, slowly inching closer, screwing up his face as if it would let him see more clearly. Gally offered his affirmation, bringing all their suspicions to a conclusion firmer than just Alby’s alone and leaving them all in mental scrambling. One by one, their stares went from the new arrival at their feet, to each other’s, gradually translating their varied stages of panic to the other beside them. They stood, all of them, equally dumbstruck. Newt’s behavior nearly mimicked that of claustrophobic reaction, Gally’s more crushed, and disoriented. Alby’s eyes then dropped to the metal below their feet, his mind already rushing to calculate. There were now adjustments to be made, and his gears were churning on how to map them out precisely. Though, just as his first command formed in his head, Newt’s voice interceded all their silences.

“What’s it she’s wearing?” he asked, now pinched in the face, and nearing the girl again. It was carefully that he asked, or even looked--as they’d all attempted to keep at least some semblance of modesty about their actions, in case the girl were to wake up with them towering over her still. But at his asking, Alby and Gally conducted inspection on their own, and could only find themselves stunted at the very same question. She were curled on her side, still unconscious… and draped in almost a sheet-like garment that wasn’t fit at all for what she would need for the glade. Or for what anyone would.

“Newt.”

All eyes darted to Gally when he piped up, averting immediately upon seeing him point in the blond’s direction.

“By your feet.”

He looked, and could only be drawn into deeper bewilderment. There at equal level to his ankle, there was a set of clothes folded and on the floor of the box. Shoes lay atop of them, laced neatly, only adding to the eeriness that continually mounted. They were relatively clean, though not new. But none of them could explain why she’d come up covered in the way she had.

“ _Hey, somebody say something_!” They heard a yell at their backs, along with the subsequent, agreeing murmurs that followed it. Between the three of them, a final, agreeing look was shared—uncertain in them all, but resolute. There wasn't much else that could be done by them.

“Let’s get her out, then,” Gally spoke. Alby had just heaved a breath of a ‘yeah’ to agree, but as he leant over, he froze in place.

“Wait.”

She was stirring, now, her breath pausing and kicking up again while her body fought to wake, letting out small, gravelly moans while her eyes struggled to open themselves, but Alby’s hesitation was aimed elsewhere, while the two who’d joined him froze in mid-kneel.

“Wai—don’t,” he said, “Don’t move ‘er, yet…”

Both Gally and Newt circled around her feet, trying to clue themselves in as to whatever Alby had zeroed in on her, and not noticing her eyes fluttering open just as they did.

“Something’s wrong.”

“What is it,” Gally asked, alarmed as well as impatient. Newt’s back inched to a cautious straightening. His heartbeat caught in his neck, beginning to pound as only he watched the girl come to groggy consciousness.

“...Alby,” Newt tried to call him lowly, trying to avoid alarming her. Both the first-in-command, as well as the builder’s keeper were occupied still. He tried again to call to them both, but kept his eyes warily on the girl as he watched her own widen: first in silent horror at her surroundings, then swelling yet again at a different stimulus. 

Gally stepped closer to Alby’s side, and fell to matching fear of the darker boy’s. The middle of her paper draping was damp, just down the center of her abdomen: clear at the outside of the stain, but fading to a pinker shade, and then darkening to a terrifying crimson at the inside. Newt watched her discover the same anomaly as them, saw the pain finally pushing into register for her, and the agonized twisting that slowly crawled over her face.

"What in _hell_."

“She's dead... _shit_ they sent her up _dead._ ”

“Alby,— No-Gally, she's _not_...“ Newt rushed over Gally’s cursing when the girl’s breaths quickened, not feeling his own do the same, and only thinking to alert the both of them again as his fear peaked, “Alby, she’s up, she’s awake—“

They all recoiled when the shrill, weak peal of a scream began, and a unanimous startle flared in every glader present.

“ _Oh **shit**_ —“ Newt echoed Gally from moments before, louder now with the girl crying out in torment as they all jumped to different action. Gally gave a final once over around them, but was out first, charging and shoving any and all who blocked the opening and shouting for them to stand back. The questions hurled at him were all hazed over, blood was thudding in his ears, and he could only concentrate on keeping a path clear.

“Tell Clint and Jeff to get to Med Hut! Now!” Newt yelled above them, his voice rougher with how hard he projected his voice. She'd reached to her stomach, and Newt hurried to pull her arms away, trying to prevent her injuring herself further. The commotion outside continued, but he could recognize the sound of sprinting feet in the grass moving away from them.

“Minho!”

The keeper of the runners came in an instant at Alby’s call, his single silhouette now shadowing over the two remaining in the box, awaiting whatever instruction that would come between their frightened curses.

“Yeah!” He called back.

“Help us get ‘er out, help ‘er out,” Alby was frantically grunting more than speaking now. Both he and Newt had worked an arm underneath either side of the girl’s back, lifting her from the ground as she continued to struggle breathing between cries and gasps. She came up first by her feet, and Minho reached out to hook his forearm underneath the bend of her knees. Their grunts and clipped encouragements all lay below the noise coming from her, and when his grip could finally latch at the curve of her ribcage, he flinched just as the others had.

“It’s a girl?!” He asked. Inadvertently, he’d started a domino effect just by doing so, and the same question came bouncing back at him, all at varying volumes and emotion.

“Get her to Med Hut, man!” Alby called out, beginning to lift himself out into the clearing Gally was still trying to keep open for them.

“GET _BACK_!”

Alby’d just climbed his way back to the ground, with Newt immediately behind, working to follow suit. He didn’t know _who_ he’d heard it from first, but the moment the words ‘she’s stung’ sounded amongst the gathered, it was enough to spark total disarray, leaving Alby to instruct Minho to hasten the Greenie to their medics.

“They sent up the greenie _stung!?_ ”

“Alby why’re we keeping her!”

“Why’d they send a girl?”

Alby could hear Newt trying with all that was in him to silence the riot, hearing his shouting answers following every question he could make out. It was a deluge of them that were hurled at them, and Newt grew more frustrated with each. “ **She isn’t stung. We’re finding out what’s happ’ning now, just leave it to us, alright!? _We don’t know why they shucking sent her, we don’t bloody know!_** “

“ALL OF YOU, SHUT UP.”

The disturbance flatlined at that, and it was well understood why Newt was second-in-command once the first interjected.

“Whatever’s in there for medjack to use, get it,” he continued to yell, pointing toward the box as he began following after Minho, “Bring it to us. Winston, you come with me. The rest of you get outta here. NOW.”

They dissipated with this, retreating with a buzz amongst themselves, and ever looking over their shoulders, but returning to each of their respective posts as demanded.

“Close it.”

Newt didn’t have to be told; the hut door was already shut at his back. His focus was all but tunneled into what was transpiring. If this girl was a danger to the glade, the issue would need dealing with as soon as humanly possible. Even if she weren’t, this entire situation still needed assessing.

“Lift that.”

Alby pointed to the sheetgown while he said it. Newt hadn’t been certain, but a seed looked to have been planted in Alby’s his mind from the whispers of the girl's suspected stinging. She was still croaking out terrifying sounds, in torturing pain that Newt winced at—identifying with too well for his liking. Jeff looked to Clint, conflict marring his young face while Clint kept at restraining her arms. The same level of caution tainted him as well as it did his fellow medjack, but Minho reached in when neither of them did, caring less about whatever bashfulness had tied their hands, and yanking up the thing to expose her abdomen.

She was covered where it mattered, and wrapped in some sort of binding above, but at her middle, there was no bandage. Though, no puncture existed either. There was no visible spreading of an infection; in fact, no sign of infection was present. This couldn’t have been the work of a griever—it certainly wasn’t a sting. Alby had seen a sting. Stings were round, deep punctures. The flesh around them dullened to a ghastly, rotting shade of violet, and it spread outward, even making the eyes seem like they were decaying internally. Stings were deadly to behold, you felt poisoned merely by _looking_ on one. This was--

“Somebody…” Winston’s brow creased, half in shock, the other in budding repugnance, “Alby, this looks like someone cut her open.”

It was true. And while his words lacked specificity, they all understood what he’d meant. It looked as though this was done _intentionally_ , as a slicer would know. The cut was clean; it was straight. And the flesh that had been parted—pink and sheening, still discharging what must have been the same fluids that had soaked through her covering--looked as though it was on its fresh way toward mending itself.

“What are those?” Newt asked upon stepping closer, seeing small, black filaments that lined their way down the wound, each across the width and tied together.

“Knots,” Clint answered him, “They’re keeping it closed. We should leave ‘em.”

“Then leave ‘em,” Alby said.

“Yeah, but look,” Jeff spoke up again, “Whatever that is that’s oozin’ outta there..? It doesn’t look too good, man.”

“Whaddyou need,” Minho volunteered, seeing as how the crates and whatever else had been sent up with the Greenie were arriving too slowly from the others.

“Get me somethin’ to cover this. And to make it stay,” Jeff did his own version of prattling—slow paced, but with overwhelming hand gestures, “Just bring all you can.”

“Alright.”

He was gone without another word. Though, Clint was fairly swift in parting the silence while it was still unclaimed.

“We need'a knock her out.”

“No,” Newt interrupted before the idea could even settle between them all, “No, we’re not gonna do that.”

“She’s just gonna keep kicking and screaming if we don't!” Clint tried to reason again, and now with the others coming to his aid while the girl’s sobbing and wailing, and struggling all continued at his hand.

“We can’t do anything else but cover this thing up, Newt, he’s right,” Jeff supplemented, trying to keep her from kicking her way off of the medtable by her ankles. They were all breathing heavily, all still panicked, and now tasked with critical thinking atop of all that’d just been thrown at them. And as Newt continued to stand firm, he looked to Alby, who’d turned to him now with a shake of his head.

“She’s in pain, Newt. It’ll put 'er out of her misery,” he insisted, though he did it softly to his right-hand man, “What choice do we have; you wanna let her suffer all day?”

“No. _Alby,_ **no,** ” he reciprocated his own insistence, his hands at his hips, and his stance all the more firm for having personal experience with such matters, “When the pain’s too much, she’ll pass out on her own. That’s just how it works. She’ll be quiet once she’s asleep. This’ll take enough out of her to keep her out for at least a day or two.” He looked up at the opposing three, frozen in mid-gesture toward her with a stern hand, seeing no hint of swaying in them as they met his glare, and running a frustrated hand down his face before attempting further to reason. “Look, that gash is gonna take weeks to heal, right? Maybe even a month. Maybe even more... yeah? It’ll be giving her hell the _entire time._ We carn’t just slug ‘er over the head every day til it eases off. We could damage her head; we might crack her skull and kill her,” he said, “…and not only that, it’ll just add shit onto us. ‘s soon as she gets up, she’ll have the stabbing in her gut **and** a throb in her head on top of it, and she’s gonna _remember_ that we’re the one’s who knocked ‘er out and put it there. You do that: you’re gonna _train_ her to **hate** us from the **_moment_** she’s able to function. ‘s the last thing _any of us_ need.”

“Here.”

They all turned when Minho, and Gally drug in what they could. They found, readily, the gauze and tape they would need, but along with them came a clear jug, filled with equally clear liquid.

“No, take that out to the boys, what’re we gonna do with pump water?”

Jeff sounded sure enough when he said that, and Minho began to lift it back out, but was stopped before exiting the door.

“Wait. Minho, give it here,” Newt called. The runner looked to the thing, then to Newt again, before lifting it to him in comply. The blonde held it to his chest—heavy as the thing was, it was at least a month’s supply—and with a twist the top came free, leaving Newt to lift the nozzle to his nose. “This isn’t water.”

“What is it?” Gally asked, though all of them were thinking the same thing.

“Somethin’ else,” he answered best as he could. Something in the scent triggered a knowing in him... however faint and far off. It was almost as if he were reminded of something, though he couldn't explain why, “It smells... medical. I think it’s something to cleanse. It could be some sort of medical rinse for wounds.”

“Use it,” Alby said with a nod, signaling Newt to hand the thing over to those tasked with such work. “And Newt’s right. We can’t keep knocking her unconscious.” He gave a sigh after this, back to calculating, but not needing very long, “Someone keep watch after you get her patched… probably better to keep her as calm as we can ‘til she falls off.”

His audience was silent with the dishing of this command. Brows lifted, resentful and stubborn looks all passed through them on a ripple, but Alby was glad to await someone to appoint themselves, giving them all ample time before he assigned shifts for them.

“I’ll do it.” Newt answered after some moments passed. He didn’t entirely trust that he could return the next day without seeing a knot over her forehead, despite the case he’d made.

“Clint, stay with her ‘til chow. Newt, you take over after sundown,” Alby concluded for them, “Everybody else, do me a favor and get the boys to council hall.”

With that, the impromptu gathering drew to a close, and the guys filtered out of the hut until only the medjack and Newt remained, watching a still stricken Winston exit with his head turned to the newbie.

“Well,” Jeff started up weakly, drawing Newt’s suddenly weary attention, “Guess they heard me, huh.”

“Who?” Newt asked deadpan, frowning, and facing him when a response didn’t come, “Heard _what_ , mate?”

“Well… I said we needed supplies,” he finally said, “Guess whoever put us here’s makin’ damn sure we use ‘em.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish editing didn't make me loathe my own writing. #woesofanauthorwannabe lol Thanks for sticking around again!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The First Day's Roughest for All of Us

 

 

Clint's eyes flickered upward, the rest of his body straightening to attention at the creak of the med hut door. Newt came in, with a snicker cracking a crooked grin onto his mouth--likely due to the palpable relief that Clint showed at his arrival. He could only figure the end of the first's shift was rather long awaited.

"Right, ready to pack it in then, mate?" he asked, carrying a full dinner bowl, as well as a jar of water that he carefully handed to the darker haired boy, "There, that's for you," he mumbled under his breath, waiting until Clint had both in his grip, before sliding up an unused crate to sit beside him, "Shucksake, your hair's gone _silver_ , man--the girl's _that_ stressful?"

"Funny, shank," Clint answered, "Cool for you to say, too: you're the one with the easy part. You get to watch her sleep."

"Yeah, 'f course," Newt chuckled again. The smile he wore faded a touch, losing the previous luster it shone with at the door. Lifting a barely conscious greenie with his bum leg did a job on his limp for the day. Sparring at the tongue with the boys at every turn to keep from adding a fresh blow to her head (both within the medhut as well as the council hall) had been quite a treat for him... joining in with the track-hoes for the remainder of the day and working himself in the fields, only to have his night assigned to keeping the newbie alive until sunrise--he certainly had the fun part betwixt the two of them.

But Newt wouldn't voice any correction to Clint. Being a leader was bearing such responsibility, and often being alone in knowing just what magnitude of toil it required.

"Alby wouldn't've tasked you if he didn't trust you, you know that. He put you first for a reason: you know what you're doing here."

They shared a look for a minute before cracking up together, Newt patting Clint's back in good humor.

"I'd wish I were me too, mate. Perks of the job," he said lowly, still laughing, but letting it wane into a more tepid smile, "How'd you hold up?"

Clint let out a huff, hearing himself beginning to sigh, but clipping it short as he folded his arms. "I didn't knock her out, if that's what you're getting at," he reassured, grinning a bit himself, before deeming it proper to give a serious debriefing, "She uh... she dropped off a few hours ago. Jeff and I cleaned the cut off and patched it up, but... I'm thinking we should probably do that once a shift. It was draining out a lotta stuff, so. The cloth's probably soaked through already." 

Newt gave slow nods, and his full attention. Clint and Jeff seemed to have given this a good deal of observation, and extra protocol that he'd only now begun to discover in the dim lighting.

"You need me to show you how to clean it and all that klunk?"

"Nah, man. 've got it," the blond answered at the ready. He'd lent a hand enough around the medjack to have that much of a clue about him, "Listen-- but did you get anything out of her at all... a word or anything," he asked. He'd figured the answer would be 'no', and Clint's shaking head came as no shock.

"Hm... not a peep, then."

"I don't know how long it'll be until she can really  _talk_ , Newt," Clint added, bringing more honesty to what was already lain bare between them, "I dunno when she'll do  _anything_  besides y'know," he shrugged, "screaming and crying whenever she wakes up. It's like you said: it could take weeks to heal straight."

"Right..." Newt answered, absent, looking to where he'd clasped his hands between his gapped knees, "...right."

From there, conversation died down, and they both were sunken into more contemplative spaces--both on the same ladder of introspection, if occupying two different rungs.

There was a sudden rush of laughter from the outside, and the two were brought back into operative conscious, hearing the gladers further out, and straightening again into casualness. 

"Well," Newt clapped his hands together briefly, rubbing them together with his eyes at the door, "Feel free to keep me company if you'd like, but as far as duty goes: you're relieved, master medjack."

He nodded toward the door when he was met with hesitance, feeling guilt wafting from Clint at the prospect of leaving him alone. Every unspoken ensuring he could spare, Newt gave, until Clint felt at ease enough to leave him to his post.

Even as the door creaked shut behind him, Newt listened for his retreating footsteps to the larger group before he slowly stood, sweeping over the place and the girl with a subtle frown to take inventory of his own for the evening.

They'd restrained her: tying her down at her ankles, again higher above her knees, binding her to the cot frame just at her wrists, and once more at the bend of her elbows. The crease between his eyes deepened when he peered closer, seeing the darker marks that had been chafed into already dark skin. He let out a descending whistle, one only audible within the walls he occupied, and succumbed quite swiftly to the obligation he felt to untie her arms. He'd keep her bound by the legs--as there were only one of him, and he'd only three good limbs to spare as far as restraining her himself went. He didn't see much choice he had; She would rub the skin off her arms after very long with this setup.

Reaching to the wrist nearest him, he worked to loosen the knot around it, having to tug with considerable force before the thing gave at all. With the fourth or fifth good one, the rope fell limp, and he took hold of the base of her palm. The girl's hand was curled into a fist, and when he turned it upward for him to better view, Newt uncurled her fingers, seeing where she'd dug her nails into her own skin from earlier pain.

"Ah... shit," he shook his head, pulling himself closer and leaning down to the hand he held. Carefully, he went from thumb to pinky, peeling off each of her fingernails to below the curve of their respective fingertips, lessening the chances of her puncturing herself accidentally. He'd just released the first hand once finished, now pulling her far arm to him, when he was brought to jolt again. His nostrils flared, and Newt pressed his thumb into the center of her wrist, quickly bringing his free hand up to below the hinge of his jaw to compare the pulse in his neck to hers. It was at a sledgehammer's force, and easily twice the rapidity of his own. It was only then that he looked to her face, and it made a bitter knoll of a feeling drop in his stomach. Her being unconscious stopped the disturbance to them in the glade, to those tending to her, but evidently it did nothing for the pain she still felt. Her forehead was creased... beaded with sweat that was oddly matched with the cold of her skin, the black lines of her lashes were glistening, and the stains of tears shed earlier still marked from her face down to her neck. 

He brought a hand to his mouth, needing the moment to look away as the sudden illness he felt ebbed. But in time it did--much faster than it took when the heaving spells hit him from his own injury-- and once collected enough to do so, he reached to peel the nails free from her opposite hand.

"...you've made a damned of a debut if there's ever been one, Greenie," he sighed. Newt stood after a while, rummaging a moment for a cloth, and placing it over her forehead once he found one suitable, "Just... try and last till dawn, yeah..? We'll take it from there."

 

* * *

 

The strain in his arms made them start to quake after a while, but he gripped tighter, ignoring the burn in his shoulders, and in his biceps, while he used his leafy hold on the ivy to pull himself higher. The balls of his feet braced himself against the wall, Newt using them to keep traction, to try and propel himself further upward. He needed to be higher. Just high enough. He gritted his jaw, grunting to himself and hauling himself another foot--a grunt and another, a grunt, and then another. It was nearly twenty minutes of him climbing in this fashion before a spooked flock of birds scattered at his disturbance, and he cast a look out below. The tops of the trees were yards below him; he was high enough to see the entire glade, but not to see the tops of any of the maze walls yet. It was enough, he figured... the height would make due. 

The sound of his name rang faintly in his ear, and soon it was coming to him multiplied, and more alarmed from below, being shouted from several sources that he could distinguish. Then, just as he saw the cluster of those calling out for him begin to gather and approach, he pushed himself off, watching as the ground rose higher to meet him, holding his breath until he reached the solid rock of the ground beneath.

 

* * *

 

He lurched awake just at the impact, his eyes blinking hard to clear the sleep from them, to regain his senses and remember his surroundings. The sound of a second voice made Newt jump again. And instantly, all returned to him, his brown eyes widening at seeing hers open, and at her mouth gaping yet again. 

"Oh. Shit--No, n-no-no-no-no," he hurried to lean forward, taking her wrists in a firm hold once he saw her reaching for her abdomen, "Don't touch it you'll--don't, don't touch it. Easy on--I've got you, I've got you just... stop,  _you'll--_ _calm down--!"_

She fought him. Wildly, groggily, she fought--thrashing her arms, her legs struggling to kick, but being too securely bound for her to move effectively. Still, he tried to calm her, 'shush'ing frantically and standing, willing her as best as he could to avert her attention.

"Shh, I know, I know, hold still!-- _look at me. Look at me, it's alright. It's alright, just hang on. Hang on. Stop thrashing, I'm n--ot gonna hurt you!"_

The struggle to keep his voice soothing multiplied, as her tugs and yanks grew stronger against him--no doubt adding stress to the muscles that were still trying to mend after being cut open. Her breathing was labored and laced with shrill, desperate sounding trauma in her voice. But with the addition of his weight, Newt managed to subdue her into holding still. She broke down into sobs then, hollering strained wails between teeth that she held gnashed together. Newt could only watch, feeling helpless, seeing her eyes red and streaming new tears, seeing the thin strands of saliva that lined her mouth when her jaw fell open to inhale spastic gasps of breath.

" _I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I know. I know... Just--_ " he looked around frantically, not even sure if she could hear him in the throes she currently were locked in, " _I carn't let you go near it--it won't help; You have to trust me, if I let you touch it, you'll tear it--calm down or you'll tear it still--let me help, alright?! H--...here. Here, here, here!_ "

He reached to the cloth he'd placed at her head, folding the outside in and holding it taught before her, "Bite. Bite down."

She did immediately, and her screeching was muffled into the cloth, but her hands clutched at his forearms, and Newt again had to adjust himself to a sitting position, having to bare his own teeth at how painfully she clasped at him. Still, he didn't dare move. Rather, he watched, feeling her bury her face into their mess of entangled hands and wrists, listening to her bawl into his palm and the makeshift sheets beneath her.

"Breathe; calm down," he tried to break through to her hearing again, using a cooled tone of authority, hoping it would aid in persuading her to heed him, "Listen t'me: You have to breathe or you'll pass out again--d'you hear me?"

She showed no signs that she could; she still held a vice grip on his arms. Her breathing was far too accelerated, she felt as though she were trembling to him, even with the activity of her body and the writhing of her limbs.

"Look--...ah, Christ  _I don't know your bloody name_..." he said to himself, thinking for a moment, frustrated but settling on a title for her that she would know to answer to, " _Girl_. Listen, you're going to make yourself pass out if you don't slow down your breathing, do you want to do that?" He actually wasn't sure if it would be best to allow her to hyperventilate to unconsciousness, but warned her all the same, if for no other reason but to establish the beginnings of some ability to trust him. But agonized seconds crept on, stretching into minutes, and the disposition he carried could not help but to change, with his seeing her shivering and still tortured... likely convinced that she was dying, or that she were dead already and lying in hell.

"Alright," he lowered himself, nudging her with his hands so she would be led to look to him, "With me, alright? It'll let you go back to sleep."

He bowed his chin, wordlessly asking if she were ready, and without solid confirmation, he coached her into pulling in heavy, full gulps of air, nodding when she caught on and gradually guiding her to continue on faster. Until they panted in sync, he locked his eyes to her, continuing to coax her into self-induced hyperventilation. Then, with her still following his lead, Newt suddenly lifted her upright, sitting her up and hearing her pull in far slower, deeper breaths--by reflex, and in great discomfort. She'd barely gotten to a third, and almost by magic,  her weight fell dead in his arms, and he scrambled to let her back down gently, now somewhat calmed with her being out again.

"'m sorry, girly," he finally spoke, catching his breath, and swiping the back of his wrist over his brow, "Raised all sorts've sand keepin' everyone else from putting your lights out 'n' I've done it already."

Newt looked after her silently a while, sighing to himself and at last tugging his hands gently lose from her grip, causing her to release some worrisome noise he instinctively responded to. 

 'I'm not leaving," he lulled, not wishing to wake her with either his physical absence or the volume of his speaking, " I'm here-- just need my hands for the moment, I promise."

 Some scuffling later, he came across the clear liquid that had been sent up with the newbie, along with a clean jug and washrag. Newt had figured it best to redress her wound while she remained unconscious. Whether or not the stuff would sting, he didn't know, and didn't want to risk. So with meticulous care, he removed the bandage Clint and Jeff had placed earlier in the day, discarding it carefully with an absorbed frown painted over him. He stood after, pushing her gently onto her side, and pouring a quarter-jar's worth of the stuff over the site. Below, he caught the liquid--as well as all the snot-like, oddly colored discharge it rinsed free--with the awaiting cloth under her stomach. Clint had been right: the bandage had been more than soaked through when he removed it. Redressing would probably have to occur three times a day, if this were to keep up. The rest was done in skilled timing; she was patted dry and rebandaged in less than a handful of minutes, leaving Newt to monitoring her heartrate and temperature for the duration of his shift overlooking her.

"Right, well..." he sighed, rubbing the heels of his palms harshly into his eyes, "Day one's toughest on most of us, Greenbean..." he stretched outward, the rest coming out on a yawn, "Shuck knows how it'll be with you, though, ...you might be a different story... so sleep tight."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking around again!


	4. Division

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She didn't exactly have the means to be the most popular of us, did she..."

 

 

"Oh my God..."

Newt remained stoic, looking blankly ahead with his lips downturned into a crescent, nodding slowly at Thomas' shock. He had twisted himself about over the tree bark, conspicuously looking again to where he'd believed her to have gone, and Newt tossed a sideways glance to the new boy, knowing he'd soon have an entirely new set of curiosities to fire at him.

"Where'd she go?" Showed to be the first of them.

"Probably to help cook," Newt answered, mid-mouthful himself, "Or to help slop the kitchen.

"You guys made her be your cook?" He asked in some disbelief, being too freshly off the telling of her arrival and believing her still unstable, or a hazard.

"Uh, no," Newt kept the laugh welling in him down, figuring it better not to choke in front of the new greenie. His throat was settled after the moment passed, "We're all chosen for the work we do--" he added, twisting about to look where she might have gone, "It was a good thing for her, too. Frypan's the only one who'd take her on, really."

That made Thomas turn about--his curiosity peaked yet again-- and a frown settled onto his expression that nearly matched Newt's own.

"...why? I mean--what makes you say that?"

Newt shrugged again, not bothering looking up to him, since he felt only another lengthy explanation would stave him off.

"Well, I've told you how she got here. She didn't exactly have the means to be the most popular of us, did she."

* * *

 

"Rise and shine, number two."

Clint's abrupt entrance snatched Newt from where he'd slouched over, fully dozed, and he squinted up at the new sun searing its way through the cracks of the walls... as well as the opening of the door, which he hazily asked Clint to close.

"Sun's startin' to hurt, hunh," Clint asked, obliging him and pulling it shut. The words themselves sounded as though they should have had a more jocular connotation, but Newt could detect an acute sense of resentment behind what he'd said... a sense that suddenly made him will himself to a more alert state.

"Mm..." some sleepy noise accompanied the rubbing of his eyes as he sat up straighter, having to untangle his fingers and arms from where the girl'd--again--locked them in a vice grip and buried her face in to alleviate the torrents and upwells of her hurting to do so, "Still getting used to the set up, I suppose."

"Yeah, well you shouldn't have to," Clint quickly retorted, although it was under his breath, and more to himself than to him. It didn't stop Newt from narrowing his eyes to the other boy, or from responding where the medjack had just crossed him.

"Well, it isn't like everyone was rightly _jumping_ at the opportunity, was it."

"Yeah-- you're right. **_No one_**   was," he came back with an immediate raised voice, "Don't you think there's a reason for that, Newt? I mean we have enough to do ourselves just to keep this place running. Taking care of one helpless person shouldn't be another full-time job thrown on top of that."

"That's a proper shame for you then, innit," Newt readily quipped, "Seein' as how under the title 'medjack', that is your exact full time job around here."

"You know what I mean, Newt."

"I do, and you're jacked for even bloody thinkin' it. If this were Jeff, or Alby, or Wyck, or anyone else," he said, now standing full height, and pointing a jabbing finger toward the unconscious greenie for emphasis, "you wouldn't be saying whatever it is you're trying to."

"Newt, _none of them would ask us to_!"

"She **bloody** didn't either," he answered, "And she certainly didn't ask to be slashed open at the gut before she got here. But the bastards did it, and they put her here just like they did the rest of us. Now: like it or not, that _shucking_ means that she's one of us. She's a greenie, but she's a damned glader along with rest of us. We're all just as trapped here as the other--and we take care of our own."

"Newt, come on." Clint spoke again, not yelling, but with his voice hard and clear, " **Come on**. We've been at this for almost three days. She's hopeless--This whole thing is useless; she hasn't even come to for longer than an hour at a time since she came out of the box, and even then, you can't get a single word out of her! Just give it up!"

The blond stood stupefied. He glared Clint down in blaring disbelief, shaking his head faintly. Comment showed to be hard to come by when it came to this, but when it did, it was unrelenting.

"You're out of your mind, man. You're losing it havin' to stay in here nonstop or somethin'. It's shucked up your thinking, being cooped up in here for the past ...however long."

"Really? That's not what Alby thinks. According to him, 'I know what I'm doing here'." The medjack answered, using the very same words Newt had only days ago. They were effective in stunning him for a solid moment. But he did recover, and with his stance reiterating his earlier hypothesis.

"Go help out with Zart today," Newt waved him off, dismissing him with steadfast authority, but not with any disdain that was personally toward Clint, "I'm not having you in here alone and tying her down in this fucking headspace. Air yourself out, man."

"Yeah, gladly," he answered, pulling his strap free from himself and tossing it carelessly aside, "Just don't get too caught up in nursing a corpse. For all our sakes."

He left with that sentiment behind him, and Newt was oddly stricken with it echoing in his mind. His eyes kept locked onto the door for longer than he would ever admit... and a while after, his tense (albeit targetless) staring dropped to the ground. It stayed there as he gave an absent scratch to the nape of his neck, and eventually, he turned, making back to his seat at the bedside.

Sitting in silence--and watching her knocked out, hearing her pulse louder than her breaths--Newt sat. His lips were pulled into a downward curve, brow furrowed; his chin rested on either of his outstretched thumbs, his indexes steepled and resting against his nose as his remaining fingers lay laced together.

"Well, that's it, then. You heard just went on," A sigh. And a beat, "Somewhere," he added, "Bloody awake or not, you heard... I know so," he mumbled. The silence fell again and he sighed fairly heavy, "You're gonna have to pull through this, Greenie. Can't afford anyone else taking on that attitude and you not doin' a klunkin' thing about it to prove 'em wrong... I don't know how much I'll be able to do if that happens. Not without your help."

Another sigh tailed his one-sided conversation, and Newt swallowed thickly, feeling his nostrils flare as he straightened his back.

"Knuckle your way out of this, Girl."  
____

At least a quarter day passed. Noon hadn't too long flown over; Newt had cleaned and rebandaged her wound yet again, with no waking incident following, which led him to unwittingly doze for a second time.

"Hey..."

"Ughnf--" Newt woke again in a start, this time being able make out Jeff's form washed out in sunlight.

"You okay, Newt?"

There was genuine concern in him, and Newt was refreshed in that. It didn't stop his dismissal, however, which came without a beat.

"I'm fine, yeah. Gettin' the hang of your gig, here," he gave a grin as he stretched away the drowsiness, "What's the matter?"

"Alby told me t'come get you."

"Where's he?" Newt asked swiftly, but with no change in his tone that gave away panic, "What's he need?"

"I dunno, man," he answered softly, shrugging, and glancing somewhere off outside, "He was headin' off with Clint when I saw him. But he needs you at council hall."

Newt was up in a flash, edging by Jeff with exceptional agility for his leg.

"Watch her for me."

"I can't, he wants me there, too," he answered. The second he did, Newt nearly did an about-face back toward med hut, but Jeff stopped him, bringing a firm hold to his arms to keep him in the direction they were going.

"Greebean'll be alright for the next _ten minutes_ , man. We'll hear it if somethin' happens."

There was already a murmur from within the meeting space by the time they entered, Jeff not a half step behind Newt when all eyes turned to them.

"There he is."

Newt could barely acknowledge Alby's greeting. He was far too preoccupied taking a once over about the room. And afterward, still, he was distracted seeing that (apart from Jeff) this was a meeting of the keepers.

"What's wrong," Newt was a touch winded when he asked, but looked around diligently for an answer.

"Sounds like a pretty heavy case of denial, from what we hear," Gally was quick to respond. He sat there with his arms folded. His brows were elevated, as if he were expectantly awaiting something or another. But Newt stayed clueless.

"W..." his lips paused mid-questioning, and his gaze darted around to all of them, seeing most of the eyes within the space were locked onto him, "denial of what... Heard from who?"

"Clint's a little worried you're throwin' too much towards a lost cause," more diplomatically, and far more calmly, Alby revealed the source of their gathering. Newt's offended expression at this lacked inhibition so much that his upper lip was quirked, leaving his open mouth looking as though it were pulling into a sneer.

"Wha--the _girl_?" he asked.

"You both've been nursing that Greenie for three days," said Gally, adding roughness, and accusational tone back into the air, "It's time to just call it on this, okay? It's throwing off everything as it is."

"How exactly is that, Gally?" Newt hurried to his own defense, " ** _In_** fact, maybe you could tell me just how _anyone_ has been inconvenienced other than Clint and myself for **any** of these past three days, because it's beyond me--"

"Hey," Alby interjected, knowing too well that Newt being as riled as he was wouldn't spell the best news for anyone there, "Hey, let's all calm it down here."

"Then _calmly_ explain it, Gally," Newt quickly added.

"He doesn't need to. You and I being inconvenienced is enough," Clint's words surfaced just as Gally began to speak, and overpowered whatever explanation it was that he was beginning to offer, "We're wasting time and energy doing nothing but cleaning and covering that slice and watching her cry and scream and claw. It's enough, Newt, it's been going on too long, we've done all we can do."

"Then I'll bloody well do it my damned self, Clint," Newt nearly shouted. His irritation was only building with the two main mouthpieces of this gathering being so very against him, and his head whipped when a third joined in the chorus.

"Newt, you're upset, but don't be stupid, alright?" Minho started, "You won't be any better off than the greenie is if you pull a slinthead stunt like that."

"Oh, you had another brilliant solution yourself, then, Minho?"

"What, more brilliant than trading my own sleep for watching somebody else's every night?" Minho answered Newt.

"Forget about the stupid little slumberparties with the newbie, Newt. Do you, or do you not remember that the glade has **rules** ," Gally raised his voice over either of them, as though his view were more important that any possible other, "Rules that apply to _all_ of us. _Without_ exception."

"Is there a point you're dancing around, Gally," Newt spat this question out, and he did it bitterly.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact. And here it is. Rule number one: **do your part**. As in: the glade doesn't have time or space for slackers. There isn't _any_ room here for people using up our resources when they aren't pulling their own weight!"

"What work can she bloody do, Gally, she's sliced open!" Now, Newt yelled... unapologetically, and to the surprise of the other boys within the council hall, "Ya slinthead idiot--you carn't possibly sit there, and honestly twist up being lazy, and unwilling to do your part, with being maimed and unable to even stand up on your own without risking your stomach tearing open! She isn't a slacker, she's _injured_!"

"She's not injured, Newt. The girl's DEAD." Clint piped in, "She's as _good_ as dead, anyway. We aren't doing anything but watching it happen... at least out there she'd be put out of her misery."

That made Newt turn to Clint again, partly caught up in trying to calm his breathing down, but mostly in how stabbed he felt in the back by him. Gally's unpleasantness was no surprise, it certainly wasn't anything that would wound him. But Clint's agreeing with him, Clint's _starting this entire meeting_ , he couldn't help but take personally. And then, clarity took freezing hold over him, making his eyes narrow, and his head turn like one whose hearing was limited.

"'Out _there_ '," he said after him. Both of his adversaries shared the same reaction: a frigid, wordless confirmation. "You carn't be serious... This is a banishment trial," Now he tuned to Alby, huffing out in disbelief immeasurable, "You're honestly letting this come to a vote--putting her in the maze."

"Yeah, Newt. We are," Gally bellowed again.

"Wait a minute," Frypan spoke up, having terror on his face that was equal to Newt's anger toward this new development, "That doesn't seem right to me..."

"Nah, ...not to me neither," Jeff agreed, shaking his head, "I could get it if she did somethin' wrong... Not being able to get up fast enough ain't breakin' a rule."

"And... she wouldn't stand a chance out there...!" Frypan added again.

"Her chances aren't any better in here, Fry." Gally quickly said. Clint wasn't too far behind.

"Exactly. She's just dying slower. And with us being forced to watch."

"Clint, if you don't wanna be on Greenie watch any more, I'll take your shift," Jeff offered, "But I'm not finna agree with all this. This is too extreme. Three days ain't no 'chance'."

"Can we just vote on this klunk and be done with this," Minho asked amidst all the clashing.

"Yeah, we can," Alby answered, "How d'you vote, Minho?"

From that second, all eyes turned to the runner, and his brows lifted by a fraction, having not expected a one-by-one count off... especially not expecting to have been called on first.

"...well, hell. If it's still as bad as when she first came up from the box, I say give her the quicker option... quit avoiding the inevitable."

"Alright," Alby nodded, his arms folded tightly and his head down for a minute, "I'm leaving it at this. As far as breakin' the rules goes: she's too injured to do anything for herself right now. So, we can't count that as an issue as long as some of us are still willing to look in on her."

That much was enough to piss Gally off, but their leader kept on, unfazed, "As far as putting her in the maze to end her suffering..." he paused then, deeply thinking over their predicament, "That should be Greenie's decision."

"She can't come to a decision, Alby, _she can't even shucking **talk**_!" Gally yelled.

"What the fuck is it to you, Gally?! You wanna put 'er out there yourself!?" Newt roared back. His voice sounded blacker from rage, and so forceful that it seemed ripped from him. But they both were soon guarded by whoever were standing closest to them, and their first-in-command continued.

" **If she still can't: we vote** ," he shouted back, "But **no** vote to put her out in the maze is gettin' carried out unless it is a _unanimous_ one. Absolutely unanimous. That's it."

"Bloody good that, then... this is fucking ridiculous."

At that, there was an immediate uproar, but Newt and Jeff were swift to make their way out, Newt cursing lowly to himself the entire time.

His attention was tunneled, focused wholly on the med hut ahead. So focused was he, that when the pressure of a hand landing on his shoulder stopped him, Newt spun with his irritation cranked to hostile measures.

"What!" he snapped. Frypan stepped back, and Newt felt terrible for having reacted how he had, "Damn it... I'm sorry, mate."

"No, I get it..." Fry answered, looking back and forth between Newt and Jeff.

"What is it?"

"Uhh. Oh, Yeah," Fry remembered he'd stopped them for a reason, "Look, three days. That's too long to go without anything in you, you know what I mean?"

"Oh, shit..." Newt breathed. Not once had he realized in the course of the Greenie's time in the glade that she had been starving atop of everything else.

"Fry, bring her somethin'," Jeff said, seeing Newt tangled up with shock.

"What, though?" their cook paused, "What can she have?"

There, they all were drawing blanks.

"I dunno... She needs water but," Newt started, "We carn't risk something ripping through there, I mean... nothing that can potentially tear her stomach."

"Milk," Jeff said, sprouting up with a sudden certainty, "We gotta feed her milk."

They dispersed from there, Newt and Jeff continuing toward the hut, Frypan to the kitchen.

"You got a gameplan here?" Jeff asked, having to trot to keep up pace. Newt stayed looking ahead, not answering until he burst through the hut door.

 

"We've gotta get her up."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This doesn't work without trust.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"How're you gonna do that?"

 

 

Jeff followed after Newt, closing the door at his back, and seeing Newt sit readily at the Greenie's side. By the time the medjack'd positioned himself across him, Newt was scooting himself so that he were parallel to the girl, allowing him to face her head on, while still being above. 

" _We're_  gonna do it," he answered. Jeff frowned, confused, ...but unquestioningly followed his superior's lead when Newt pointed to the newbie's untied limb that lay furthest from him, "Hold her arm down over there." 

He gave out instruction quickly, so Jeff  _acted_  quickly, and stood firm. Truthfully, he was expecting some oncoming tumult from the anticipation that was building between the two of them, along with the unconscious third within the space. And not a moment after Jeff'd held it secure (and noticed Newt gaining a firm grip on the other) , he watched as Newt began to pat the girl's cheek. He wasn't rough, but it would have been enough to wake someone out of a very heavy sleep. And even then, it took several attempts before he could get a stir out of her. 

"C'mon, ...c'mon, girly," he murmured to himself. Her eyes fluttered, and Newt straightened his spine, bracing himself for her oncoming struggle.  

And it most certainly came.  

Immediately, her eyes swelled, and her knees flexed, fighting weakly against their well-secured restraints. She was starting to squeal from her teeth, and to gasp in when the feeling of her slashed muscles registered yet again. Newt watched it all--seasoned, by now, to the levels of her waking after his appointed nights on watch. She held her breath, clenching the muscles in her stomach, clenching her jaw. Tears slipped down by her temples, and her arms tried to reach toward her middle, while the tendons in her neck surfaced to the skin. 

"Look at me,  _look at me_ ," Newt spoke sternly. There wasn't any softness or sympathy this time in his talking, and that surprised the medjack with him for a moment. But Newt couldn't rely on coddling now, it wouldn't serve the purpose they worked toward. He had a mission at hand, and realistically enough, the girl's life hung in the balance on whether or not they could get anywhere with her by the day's end, " _ **STOP. STOP IT, D'YOU HEAR ME**?_ " 

Jeff's eyes snapped upward when that rang through the room, and he could feel the greenbean flinch from where he was still restraining her. For reasons unknown to him, it seemed to have worked... as much as it _could_ , anyway. She was still crying, she was still clenching and letting out noises of her agony, but she was straining to hold herself more still, and more pressingly: she paid attention. _Fearfully_ , she did this... as though _they_ were the ones who posed the threat to her life, when she hadn't a clue of the reality. It looked to have stung Newt, how much he'd frightened her. Jeff could see it flit over his face, making his eyes close a second, and a rueful breath leave him. But that was the only time he let his resolve melt. It didn't last even long enough for the Greenie to catch on to. 

" _Listen to me_. Listen. I need you to _pay attention_ , and I need you to **trust me** , alright?" He went on. The girl's face pinched, and her eyes were squished, but they both witnessed what could have been excused as a weak nod as her answer, "Alright. I _know_ you're in pain. I **_know_** you are, I see it. And I would stop it if I could. But you have to do something for me. Right now. You **have** to; and I _know_ you can. You've lasted this long, and I've been right here the whole time..." he kept talking, kept trying to soothe, to get her accustomed to gritting through this pain so she wouldn't become reliant on sleep, and on letting it overtake her and defeat her every few minutes she regained consciousness. Her eyes opened then, and Newt nodded his approval. 

"D'you remember me?" He asked. His chin lifted to analyze more closely, lest she give an answer and he not recognize it, "You don't have to speak yet. Just nod if you do, for now. Do you remember me being here with you these last few nights?" 

She nodded, and with that small movement of her head, another two streams cleared from her lashes, staining the cloth underneath her that cushioned where she lay. 

"Good. And do you remember coming here," he pressed on, "Loud noises and lying in a cage, moving upward very quickly. D'you remember that--do you remember us  _finding_  you."

This time she mouthed the word 'yes', and suddenly, Newt was glad that he'd peeled off her fingernails... from how tightly she was clenching her fists. 

"Good. Good," he said. Some time between this exchange, he'd moved his hold slowly, so that now he was holding her arm upright, and had her hand cradled between his two. It worried him less this way, leaving her to squeeze the vice grip onto him rather than continuing to crush her own bones, "I want you to know who I am, then. My name is Newt. This is a new place that you're in. One you've never been to before, with people you've never met before. And there are people in charge here... I'm the lesser of them. I'm Newt."  

She nodded, still pained out of her mind, but he shook his head at her, "No, I need you to say it for me, so I know you'll remember when you wake up again. Can you say that for me?" 

Her own head shook back at him now. Desperately. Not necessarily in any answer, but as a feverish means of begging him not to make her push through any more of this, to let her retreat back into the refuge that sleep had become these last few days. But Newt held steadfast, remembering the predicament that he and Jeff had just walked out on in the council hall, "No. No, no, no... not this time. Come on, I know you can. I  **know**  you can, just say 'Newt' for me." 

The girl's eyes opened, and he continued to nod, keeping heavy eye contact, until finally, he could hear her repeat after him. It was strained, and barely was laced with any sound, but afterward, she said it again, and they both heard her voice for the first time outside of her wailing screams. 

"Alright, alright," he lulled, patted her hand softly, and tossed a quick look to Jeff before he continued, "Now. One more question: I promise," he could hear her whining her protest, but spoke out over her, "This is the last one, then I won't ask you anything else for now, okay? ...Can you remember your name?" 

They both waited, exchanging furrow-browed glances to each other, and to the girl between them when silence prevailed, but she nodded after some while, and Newt straightened, adjusting himself where he sat with this new, extending hope. 

"Then I need you to tell me what it is," he said. This way, his promise wasn't broken to her. He could see the smirk on Jeff's face after he'd said it. Evidently, he'd caught on to that technicality as well.

"Grit one more time and tell me your name. Grit **hard** , this is important." 

"Real important," Jeff added. 

Her teeth bore themselves again, and Newt squeezed back this time when the pressure built on either of his hands, trying his best to encourage without aggravating her as he had been up until now. They needed something to take back to Alby: something to hold off this vote of theirs for good. None of them could risk doubt seeping into anyone else over whether or not this newbie was better off at the mercy of the grievers, than in their care here in the glade. The two of them running off and swearing that the girl had woken up and managed to speak at such a convenient moment would come off as suspicious. Particularly without any of the naysayers having been there to witness it. A name was much more reliable, and more believable as far as the others went.  

"C...ur-ie." she bubbled out, somewhere sunken between a whisper and sob. 

"What?" Jeff asked--more to Newt than to the girl. But she heard, and now she shouted it repeatedly, making them both feel guilt piling on their ribs. 

"Curie!  _CURIE!_ **CURIE**!" 

"Alright, okay, okay..." Newt calmed her, wiping the backs of his knuckles over her cheek to clear the trails her crying left, and likely doing it too hard, "Perfect, love. Perfect, that was perfect. That's it...That's all you have to say, you don't have to speak anymore." 

"W--..." 

He perked when she started up again anyway. Confusion pulled his frown deeper, but he listened on, watching her struggle to force out the words she'd wanted, sounding weak and personally wounded, breathing in a quaking inhale as her voice hiked up in teariness, "W...why...  _why d--"_

"I don't know," he answered. It broke his heart to do it, now, even after all he'd witnessed of her suffering, and in all this time. This was far more personal to both her and him alike, and she was crying from a different hurt. It was confused, it was weak and helpless... lost, searching. It was shattering to witness. And he knew exactly why. She wanted to know why she'd been mutilated... who would commit this sort of monstrous act onto her before abandoning her in here alone. And that, Newt honestly had no idea over, "...I really don't." 

Now his voice was soft again. Now he was back to soothing. But his voice still was weighted with that naturally-placed wisdom, and soundness that it always were, "I wish I did." 

He could see her working herself up again, and now, he knew what question was coming toward him before it even passed her lips. 

"I'll show you where you are when you're able to stand, and walk, and all those things again. Whatever you want to know. All you need to know for now, is that I'll be here to look after you. And so will this fellow, here. His name's Jeff."  

Newt waited for her to look over to the medjack, and to dedicate him to memory before speaking again, "There might be other people in here every now and again... or we may have to step out for a moment. But just call us if you need us, and we'll be here for you. Alright? You're safe here. There's noises out here sometimes, but I promise you're safe. I need you to trust me." 

"--got it!" Frypan burst in on the three of them, making all of them jump at the commotion, and the girl writhe from the sudden movement she'd made, ...moreso from the subsequent throes that it caused to wave over her. Newt pet her arm when he noticed, but also nodded for Jeff to take the jar of milk Frypan'd brought to them. 

"Here. We need you to drink this for us," Newt nodded toward the jar, and when she started up her protest, the blond had to speak over her yet again to assert his unyielding on the subject, "You haven't had anything in your stomach for three days--maybe even longer. You're gonna have a lot more problems if you don't put something in it, and none of us're gonna sit here and let you starve, Girl." 

"It's Curie," Jeff corrected, causing Fry to look over to him at the same time Newt did. 

"...Y'all learned her name?" 

"She told us just before you came in," Newt answered distractedly, and in a rush, eyes still on the jar, "Here. This will hurt, so we'll get this done quickly, alright? Because you'll be worse off without it." 

Newt signaled over to their cook, motioning for him to circle around the girl and take position at his side, still speaking to Curie as he did, "We're gonna help you--but you have to sit up and drink this." 

Another anguished sound came from her when they managed to push her upright, and she was reduced again to sobbing along with her groans, but Newt took the jar from Jeff unflinchingly, tasking Frypan with holding the side of her back that he would have to abandon to get her to drink. 

"C'mon. Finish this, and you can go back to sleep. I mean it this time, I promise. Now come on. At least half." 

He pressed the nozzle against her chin, and with some easing, she finally let her head tilt back, and she began to struggle sipping the stuff down. They all watched quietly with the same fright shadowing them all--half expecting her to begin leaking milk out of her incision, or for her to clamp her arms over her stomach and double over in brand new pain. But they were all shocked when she slipped her arm from Frypan, and held the jar up more forcefully even than Newt, draining the thing within the next several seconds to their relief. 

"Atta girl," Newt said, amongst the general relief that had overcome the boys. There was a minute taken amongst all of them to calm down, and after that minute, Newt quietly thanked Frypan, handing back the jar and releasing him from his ties ( for now ) to the greenie and the medhut all together. 

"Okay, c'mon," he eased, helping to lower her once again, "Easy on, we've got you... down you go." 

She panted worse than the runners did upon their daily returns to the glade, by the time she was lying flat again, and both Jeff and Newt alike were fairly certain that she would be knocked out on her own soon without need of assistance.  

"Really ready for me to stop botherin' you now, unh, girly," he asked, trying to be lighthearted, but swiftly realizing his mistake, "Curie, I mean." She remained with her constant coping noises being the only sound from her. Newt nodded to himself, "I'll let you sleep now, if you want." 

Her eyes were already closed. They _had_ been from the second she'd laid down again. Silently, Newt gave Jeff his permission to leave, and he did, feeling the same relief as his counterpart. 

"Do you want me to leave you alone, too?" He asked. Newt wasn't certain why he had. But when she responded, giving a frail shake of her head as a 'no', Newt watched as her face twisted again in pain, and readily offered his hands to her. She had her face buried in them the moment he did, squeezing and curling herself into the fetal position to knuckle through until she was put out again.  

Once she was resting, she remained that way... undisturbed until dusk. It relieved Newt greatly, but as he watched the angle of the sun from outside--the cycle and descent of its light shifting the shadows inside of the place--he was left to a mounting anxiety over the prospect of the evening that approached the both of them. The first interrogation had been such a strain on all involved. This second one coming, and being to take place under the scrutiny of all the keepers **and** Alby, could do nothing but instill dread in him.  

For ages, Newt debated with himself over waking her--not knowing whether it would be more advantageous to spare them the sight of the nightmarish exertion that was her coming into consciousness. His lips pursed in focus, eyes fixed and hardened as he watched her continue to sleep. But his decision ultimately broke her away from this temporary peace. At the very least, though, he would wake her more gently than he did before. 

"Curie." 

He took her hand in his, slipping the one that remained free along her forearm to urge her awake. It took some pats to her hand, and a squeeze on his behalf to get her lashes to part, and once they did, Newt tightened his grip, trying to brace her as well as himself. 

"You have to do something for me again. I'm _sorry_ , girly, I'm _sorry_..." He continued to pet, and even rested a soft hand over the covered site once she was kicked into reaction, and having just that instinctual action make a question raise in caution. 

 "...do you think it'll help if I press down here?" He asked, making sure that her bag-darkened, exhausted eyes caught sight of where he was signalling, so that he knew she was aware of his intentions, "I'll try if you want me to," he said with equal forethought, gauging her every movement for hesitation, or for doubt. But when she gave a heedful nod, Newt straightened his shoulders.  

"Okay," he said lowly, "I'll stop if it hurts. Let me know; I'll stop." 

With that, he flattened his palm against the warmth of her abdomen, and gave himself a mental count before letting down a firm clamp that he kept pressed into her middle. Newt could hear her grunt, and drew back as though he were burned. But he could see her--and hear her--releasing sounds of objection, and he quickly stuttered to regain clarity. 

"What--do it? You want me to keep it there?" He asked. The girl nodded frantically, and without a second of missed time, Newt pressed down again, and held his hand there. And it was just in time for the others to make their presence known outside the door. 

"She's awake, Alby," Newt called. Just that much made her eyes double in size, exposing the blue-white of them in blistering terror. But he was quick to put it in check, giving her a stern ' _hey_ ', before mouthing harshly "Trust. Me."  

The door opened, and the second-in-command, after nodding to the first one in, gave the newbie a weathered, gentle look that she oddly understood from him. Still, an impulsive manner of panic surfaced in her when she saw the line of boys enter the door, all occupying what space they could around them, and all with their eyes boring into her as though she had committed some unspeakable wrong. Her eyes ticked over nearly all of them (all she could make out in any case), but landed and stayed on Newt, seeing him nod to her in an extension of the same message he'd given her before. 

"A _wake_?" He could hear Gally and his derision by the door, but hoped that she took his cue in ignoring anything the builder had to say. 

"Ask her whatever you need to," Newt said to who she could tell was the leader of them all. She waited, her breaths still shallow, but with her pain more honed, feeling flattened and slightly more concentrated with the pressure Newt was keeping on it.  

The dark boy stepped forward, stopping just at her side, and folding his arms as he looked over her. 

"Do you know who I am?" He asked. The air froze while they all listened for her to answer. It lay still enough to have believed that every one of them held their breaths in wake of her response. She looked to Newt, and with a fretful curve to her eyes, she shook her head, attempting to let out a 'no', but only having it formed with her lips. 

He just stood there for some while of looking her over, and she half felt the urge to cower. 

"...that's alright," he answered at last. It left her as well as her caretaker grateful, and the other continued, talking in a deep, authoritative tone, "My name is Alby. I'm the one in charge around here." 

She kept her gaze locked on him, wide and worried, and Alby spoke again, "I don't think you got to see too much of our glade. But Newt thinks he can help you get up and moving so that you can," that made her glance to the second-in-command again, and Newt's face had softened somewhat. She detected a slight upturn of his mouth, even with the subtle frown placed above his eyes, "And that's a good thing. Because this place..? It takes **_work_** to keep up, to maintain," Alby explained, "We can't afford anyone who won't do their own share of the work around here. And it ain't easy." 

Now, she was feeling shamefully weak in front of the lot of them. _Exposed_ , and weak. It was an awful feeling--one of deep violation, being put on display as she was for whatever point this was being made here... whatever example was being made of her. But the Greenbean nodded, working a crease between her eyebrows while she gave a second once-over to the boys in this structure. 

"Do you remember your name?" Alby asked. She closed her eyes and held her breath, finding it easier to speak this way for now, and felt another hot streak run from her eyes into her hairline when she braced. 

"Curie," she answered, straining it out to the intrigue of the rest. 

"Are you in pain, Curie?" Alby didn't even pause for that. She was wary at the fact that he'd asked her, but found it fruitless to lie, even in her frazzled excuse for clear thinking. So she nodded. 

"Enough to want it to stop? For good?" He asked, now grim, and motionless.  

That worked to effectively scare her senseless, and it was apparent that Newt noticed it, because not a second later did she feel him squeeze her hand, and begin to rub his thumb along where he held down the cut in her belly. 

"Or do you think you can gut this out," Alby finally added. Only then did she answer, nodding weakly and forcing out words in case that weren't enough. 

"...gut it out." 

When she said that, the collective breath everyone else seemed to have been holding was released, and she could hear a fair mixture of responses to her decision. 

"She's eaten earlier; Jeff and Frypan can vouch," Newt added. After a while, Alby turned back to the blond-headed boy, and nodded. 

"You really think she can grit this out til she's healed," The one in charge asked, sounding as though he were approaching some finalization in whatever this was. Newt nodded without question. 

"She's already knuckled through the worst of it, Alby. I've watched her; trust me, she can." 

From there, the girl was left to watch nervously betwixt the two head men of these boys, all as the others muttered amongst themselves, or kept their eyes locked to her and where she was being braced down. 

"Alright. I trust you," Alby answered. Like that, Curie felt the pressure in the air released, the tightness of the room deflated, and Alby turned to those who had come in at his back.

"We're done here." 

 She watched them all file out, being disturbed in particular by the reaction of the boy by the door once this verdict was reached. He'd practically cracked his palm against the door the knock it open, and stomped his way irately from the hut. The rest left with the same low buzz surrounding them, and with another nod, Alby left the two of them alone again, turning and adding just before he exited.

 "You've got some of my best guys behind you, Curie. Don't let 'em down."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be quicker, but shorter. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Next Chapter will be up within the hour. I'll try and keep the updating within 2 week spans after this. Thank you for sticking around so far!


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